


Put the Fire Out

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood is a soldier, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands, M/M, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: Sweat is dripping down Alec's face, his back, into open cuts. His body aches, a pulsing bruise, and he swears a blue streak when one of the demons gets a lucky hit in and throws him against the wall, his head hitting brick and sounding a loud crack down the air. Alec clears his head through sheer force of will and grins, feral, with a savage glint in his eye.Alec has a lot of issues with what being a shadowhunter means. Demon hunting isn't one of them.





	Put the Fire Out

**Author's Note:**

> @magnusandalexander on tumblr has a Spotify Malec playlist and Seven Dials by Florence + the Machine is on it and this popped into my head! I'm currently on hour 8 of a 9 hour layover so I decided to write this! Happy Reading :)

Alec grins, a savage glint in his eye. It’s him against a dozen Dormai demons and he relishes the fight. Adrenaline courses through him, making him feel impossibly invincible. It’s been ages since he was in a good fight, since he was forced to use the wide breadth of his skill against an opponent.

He’s filthy, with ichor burning patches of clothing and stinging exposed skin. His blood is flowing-- from a cut above his eye to where a demon had pierced through his thigh. 

He doesn’t feel anything, though. 

His focus is complete, unwavering. The fighting is too close range for proper archery, so Alec makes do.

He always does.

He has an arrow in one hand and a dripping seraph blade in the other. He has half a dozen runes activated and were anyone to observe him, they’d only see a blur of movement and hear the agonized cries of the demons. Alec grants no quarter. He’s long since lost track of time, but he’s down to half a dozen of the disgusting things left. 

They’re reptilian, with rows of teeth so sharp they could peel the skin off their captive effortlessly. They’re as big as leopards and move with the same cunning grace. They grin back at him, wild expressions of rage and determination. He’s been backed against the wall for awhile now and they smell victory.

Alec didn’t become the best shadowhunter on the east coast without being put through his paces, however. Alec’s own smile becomes wider and more feral as he lunges forward, cutting his blade through the air to decapitate one of the monstrosities. In the next instant, his arrow is embedded in the eye of another Dormai demon, their screeches deafening but bringing grim satisfaction.

Alec’s vision is hazy and red and he hastily wipes his arm across his forehead, clearing the blood away and restoring his vision. The remaining four demons are staying at a distance for the moment, clearly trying to strategize the best way to take out the threat that’s killed almost ten of their own.

Alec braces his weight on one foot and takes the time to swipe his blade across his thigh, cleaning it as best he can until he gets home.

Alec has a lot of issues with being a shadowhunter. He didn’t let himself acknowledge them until a few years ago, but there’s no denying that being a nephilim carries a lot of baggage. Shadowhunters are upheld as paragons of the downworld, they have a tendency to be homophobic and unwelcoming _in the extreme_ , and they’re not known for their bedside manner.

As Head of the Institute, Alec has worked to change some of those things both at his institute, and with shadowhunter policies at the top through official Clave channels. It’s a slow process but Alec has all the time in the world and nothing sets his blood on fire like his brethren being the worst versions of themselves.

This, though. Alec can’t deny that he can’t get enough of _the hunt_. Out here on the streets of New York-- or Rome or Tokyo-- it’s just him and the demons. It’s a test to see who’s the best and Alec always wins. He’s the best archer and a devil at seraph blades or throwing stars or anything else that catches his interest. He’s a dedicated student and has spent countless hours pouring over the weapons room, sharpening his ability in a wide range of weaponry and combat strategy. 

Alec loves the buzzing under his skin during a fight and immediately following. Sometimes, the high lasts for hours-- Alec used to burn the energy off in the training room, even though he’d be so sore or injured that just standing hurt. But now, he has Magnus and his fiancé knows just what to do to bring him down.

All of that will come later though. Right now, Alec is acutely aware of the sting in his thigh, a dull throb that beats in time with his pulse. One of the bastards had caught him with their claw, grotesquely long things that had the strength of steel. Alec thinks the wound might go all the way through but he can’t worry about that now. For now, he puts it out of his mind and ignores the blister swelling between his thumb and index finger. His hands are so calloused that he’s still surprised when skin splits under a crushing grip on a blade or bow.

The pain brings everything into focus. Alec has long since stopped using training and patrol as an excuse to engage in destructive behavior, but it’s _this_ , that makes his blood turn hot. The knowledge of what his body is capable of, how much it can stand, how powerful it can be, that makes going out on patrol something he still does once a week, rain or shine.

He thinks it keeps him sane.

There’s no thinking when confronted with demons that would rather swallow a person whole than breathe. There’s only reflex and action and cold, calculating skill. Alec doesn’t advertise it, but sometimes he thinks there’s more Jace in him than he likes everyone to believe. It’s no secret that parabatai share a piece of their soul with the other and Alec has often wondered if that need for release that rides him so hard when he’s out in the field isn’t an extension of what Jace feels. Or maybe, they’re both blood-thirsty bastards that enjoy killing a little too much.

Whatever the case is, it doesn’t matter now. One of the demons jumps straight in the air before coming down almost on top of Alec. Alec deflects it’s limb with the flat of his blade, but the force brings him down onto his back. The demon is leaning over him, ready to make the killing blow, when its screams rip through the air. Alec’s arrow is embedded in its heart and the thing dissolves into black ichor, absolutely suffocating Alec in the stuff.

Alec coughs, trying not to throw his guts up as the last three charge at him at once. Spitting out a glob of pitch black saliva mixed with blood, Alec feints back and drops down, bringing them closer. Once they’re within striking distance, it’s a battle of the highest caliber.

Sweat is dripping down Alec's face, his back, into open cuts. His body aches, a pulsing bruise, and he swears a blue streak when one of the demons gets a lucky hit in and throws him against the wall, his head hitting brick and sounding a loud crack down the air. Alec blinks several times and grunts out a _fuck_ as a different one reaches for his arm, jerking it and snapping it clean in two. The pain is blinding but shit just got real and Alec clears his head through sheer force of will.

With one arm out of commission, Alec is left with a seraph blade and his wits. He hauls himself up to his feet. He sways a little unsteadily but when he catches one of them coming towards him in his peripheral vision, he turns in reflex and brings the blade up just as the demon lunges forward, impaling itself and turning to ash.

 _Only two to go_ , Alec thinks and fixes his grip on the hilt. In quick succession, Alec has killed one of the last demons, falling onto a knee and stabbing the creature through its stomach, hissing as yet more ichor spills on him.

It’s one on one now and Alec’s grin returns, a maniacal gleam in his eye. If anyone saw him now, they’d think him a mad man. This has been the most brutal patrol he’s been on in months and even though he’ll regret everything tomorrow, right now it’s satisfying as hell. He’s killed eleven demons without backup-- a rookie mistake he would dress anyone else down for-- and soon that will be an even dozen.

This last demon is smarter than the rest of them and stays back, taking Alec’s measure for a moment before ducking to the right. Alec has barely enough time to bring his blade up and grunts when his thigh gives a vicious pang as he takes a step back to absorb the impact.

What follows is long minutes of combat. The demon is a persistent fucker and each time one of its limbs crashes against him, Alec aches a little more. It’s through sheer chance that it leaves its side vulnerable for a split second, but that’s all the time Alec needs to finish him off.

With the last demon dead and sent back to hell, the alley is quiet. It’s just Alec’s harsh breathing and the drip of blood from the seraph blade.

Alec exhales and winces as he becomes aware of everything. In the next minute, he’s activated his iratze and sighs in relief as he feels his arm knit together and feels the worst edge of the bruises and cuts heal.

Alec wipes his blade on his jeans and shoves it into his thigh holster. He walks over to the wall and picks up the arrow he’d dropped, returning it to the quiver still on his back.

He takes out his phone and sees that it’s almost four in the morning. He’d been in this particular fight for almost an hour and it’s time to head back.

Alec makes his way to the loft, his body in pain but he’s buzzing. The adrenaline has yet to burn off and with his runes still working, Alec sees everything with crystal clear acuity. He hears the clacking of heels as a prostitute walks towards a car with blacked-out windows. He sees the homeless man in the shadows of a doorway and can smell the leftovers the couple down the block is carrying.

It’s a few minutes before Alec reaches the loft. He opens the door quietly and eases it shut when he sees that Magnus must have gone to bed. Alec toes off his shoes and stows his gear in the special box Magnus had placed in the entryway for him so long ago.

He walks carefully into the ensuite, swiping a bottle of whiskey from the drink cart on his way, past a sleeping Magnus, and doesn’t breathe fully until he’s in the bathroom and has the door closed behind him. 

Alec turns the lights and faucet on and rummages in the cabinet for needle and thread. While his iratze would fix the critical injuries, the wound on his thigh is still bleeding and Alec needs to stitch it up.

Field Medicine 101.

Alec unfastens his thigh holster and peels his soaked jeans off, tossing everything into the corner. He takes off everything else, leaving him in just his underwear, and takes his first look at the injury. There’s a jagged opening on his thigh, just right of center, and Alec winces as he knows what’s to come. Walking over to the floor length mirror, he turns around and sees an exit hole. Alec limps back to the sink-- the wound is much more painful now that he knows the extent of it-- and practices his breathing while washing his hands a few times over with antibacterial soap. The shit’s astringent but that’s just what he needs right now.

Drying his hands, Alec reaches for the bottle of whiskey. He’s never acquired a real taste for liquor but that doesn’t stop him from opening the bottles and taking a few liberal swigs. It burns all the way down. Alec takes a moment and breathes past it before taking a few more drinks.

It will take a few moments for the alcohol to take affect and in the meantime, Alec looks grimly down at his leg. He could leave it be. Take a shower, and then when he'd wake up in the morning it would be closed and well on its way to healing. But, Alec doesn’t want a jagged scar from the demon’s claw and it’s easier to get it out of the way.

With a last deep breath, Alec reaches for the whiskey bottle one last time and manages his way into the bathtub. Once he’s standing in it, he pours liberally over the open wound front and back.

While Alec has had to fix things up the rough way a few times, he never gets used to the burn. Everything turns white-hot and his vision wavers as he gasps then swears a blue streak-- all while trying to keep quiet.

His strength rune is still activated, however, and when he reaches for something to focus on instead of the pain, he ends up hitting the shower wall and sees the cracked porcelain. He has a brief thought that Magnus will need explanations for why he needs to fix the bathroom when all of a sudden, he’s steady again.

The pain is still licking up his insides but it’s simmered back down to manageable. Alec threads the needle and starts making military-precision stitches. It’s only half a dozen but Alec has to grit and hiss his way through it. Ales is a warrior, a born soldier, but some things are impossible to get through stoically.

He’s only done the front so far and is just contemplating how the hell he’s going to stitch the back of his thigh up, when there’s a tenative knock on the door.

“Alexander?”

Alec fumbles for the whiskey bottle, taking another deep sip in an effort to control the wavering in his voice.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can I come in?”

Alec doesn’t really have a good reason for keeping Magnus out. He already knows Magnus will be annoyed that he didn’t wake him up to heal himself but Alec is loathe to use Magnus’s magic whenever he’s perfectly capable of dealing with things himself.

Holding back a grunt of pain, Alec just answers, “Go ahead.”

The door knob twists and slowly swings open. Magnus peers in and takes in the bunched up clothes in the corner absolutely reeking of ichor and blood, the whiskey bottle with just a few sips left, and Alec, standing in the bathtub hold a needle and thread that's also been doused in whiskey.

He just raises a brow and takes in the row of neat stitches in stark contrast to Alec’s pale skin. “Have fun tonight, darling?”

Alec grunts out something unintelligible that sounds like an agreement, followed by a muttered, "Yeah. I killed a few dozen tonight. Felt good."

Magnus can’t help the slight worry in his gaze. He knows his fiancé. It’s obvious Alexander loves demon hunting. It’s in his blood, part of his very biology. Magnus has seen Alec after enough hunts gone well to know how keyed up he can get-- it’s a rush of the highest order and Magnus usually tries to stay up and wait for Alec on nights that he knows he’s going on patrol. Alec is a superbly talented shadowhunter but he isn’t infallible. It’s in moments like this that Magnus sees the fragility of what he’s found. He didn’t finally get a love for eternity only to lose him to demon filth.

Magnus knows that while Alec is shameless about his magic in bed and for the most frivolous things-- hot coffee in bed without moving, as his own tailor service-- Alec absolutely hates asking for Magnus’s help with anything serious. Alec thinks he’s inconveniencing him, which is such horseshit but Alec’s always been the last to see his worth.

Alec has the good grace to look sheepish and Magnus just rolls his eyes before coming over to the bath and holding his hand up to Alec’s thigh. The blue of his magic swirls around and Alec’s breath catches at the warmth, at the comfort Magnus’s magic always brings. He holds still, only relaxing when he feels his leg heal completely. Magnus moves on to the various cuts and bruises littering Alec’s body. Alec sags in relief as the pain trickles away.

Magnus hums, a little under his breath, and Alec’s eyes become impossibly heavy. He’s crashed hard and Magnus catches him as he sways a little. He helps Alec sit in the claw foot tub and turns the water on-- just a hair short of too hot, just the way Alec likes. He leaves Alec to lay for a moment, heading towards his apothecary. He grabs a few medicinal scrubs and healing potions and when he comes back, Alec is dozing. Magnus pours the liquid in and the air immediately becomes tinged with the scents of lavender and eucalyptus. 

Alec drags his eyes open and smiles a little at Magnus, grabbing his hand and kissing it in gratitude.

Alec washes off the ichor and dried blood and sweat. Magnus changes the water twice and lets Alec soak for a few minutes, using that time to just take him in.

Alec is a handsome man. Sharp cheekbones and delicious stubble with wonderful hazel eyes makes his face the most interesting Magnus has ever studied. His body is well-muscled befitting a warrior and Magnus lets his gaze wander for a moment. 

His very own dark Adonis.

After ten minutes or so past, Magnus gently wakes Alec up with a chaste kiss. Alec hums and blinks his eyes open, looking so open and soft that Magnus can hardly stand it.

He urges Alec to stand up and magics a towel into his hand, drying Alexander himself. He barely lingers anywhere interesting, far too aware that dawn is approaching and they’re both ready for sleep.

They walk to the bed together, and Alec all but falls into it, face first. Magnus chuckles and turns off his bedside lamp before crawling into his side. He’s immediately covered by an octopus who buries his face into his shoulder, throws an arm around his stomach, and wedges a thigh between his.

Alec hums and presses even closer. He’s radiating heat and contentment and Magnus lets that blanket cover him and lull him to sleep.

The last thing he hears before drifting off is Alec’s slurred, “Thanks, Magnus. I love you so much. 'Night, babe.”

They’ll wake up around noon and enjoy a leisurely brunch. They’ll talk about Alec’s tragic inclination to do everything himself and Alec will apologize and things will get better. Alec always listens and adjusts his behaviour accordingly. They’ll go their separate ways and complete another day as the power couple of New York’s downworld. Alec will go on another hunt and taste that edge he loves so much and Magnus will always be there to heal him and make sure that he makes it home every night in one piece.

It’s a predictably unpredictable life and Magnus wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr @carmenlire


End file.
